Into the Darkness
by Jenneh
Summary: There's a fine line between the motivations of a righteous man and a broken one. Cecil learns the limits of justice and grief. Alternate universe, canon divergence of in-game events, WIP.


_Follow me home  
__Through the, the maze and on  
__I'll show you the road  
__That I led you the wrong way on_

_Why'd I go that way?  
__Why do I steal?  
__How could I let her go?  
__Why do I feel?  
__Oh, why'd I go that way?_

\- Blue October, Let It Go

The lair of the Antlion stretched open before them, dimly light by the single torch Gilbert carried. Cecil tried to make out the full expanse of the cave, his eyes struggling in the poor light. It was massive, its floor made of a soft sand, descending down into a large pit in the very middle.

The air was thick and warm, with no promise of a breeze to relieve them. Cecil drew in a deep breath, his ribs straining against the burden of his heavy armor. He wondered again at the wisdom of wearing his full kit on this excursion – after all, Gilbert had assured him it would be little more than an quick errand in and out of the Antlion's nest. And while they had encountered a few hostile creatures in their descent, they were dispatched easily with few reprisals.

With a weary sigh, he closed his eyes, and the image of Rosa's face, tense in pain and pale, drifted before him. No, this mission was too important for any risks to be taken. He couldn't forget her brow drenched in sweat, her mouth slightly parted with the shape of his name on her lips, the soft plea that sounded both like a prayer and a command: _Cecil._

"Cecil?" Gilbert's soft voice broke his daydream. The heat agreed more easily with the prince, having been raised in the desert climate. Even little Rydia seemed unphased, though the humidity had teased her green hair into a comical puff. Though the two of them were dressed more appropriately, Rydia in her lightweight robes, Gilbert in his bard's tunic and leggings.

"Please, continue." Cecil pulled his sword from its sheath at his hip, its black blade glinting greedily in the torchlight.

"No blades necessary," Gilbert said, a flourish of confidence in his words. He stepped to the mouth of the pit, and gestured, "The Von Muir royal family has been visiting the Antlion nest for generations. Typically, the Antlion hunts passively, waiting for prey to stumble into the pit, unable to climb out due to the softness of the sand." He put a confident foot down into the pit, "However, a set of steps was constructed to allow the Von Muirs to safely approach the heart of the nest. This is where she lays her eggs, but the Antlion has always been docile toward humans."

Now that Gilbert had pointed it out, Cecil could make out the faint outline of crude stone steps descending down into the pit. Even as Gilbert continued boldly down, Cecil hesitated, uncertainty boiling within him. He thought of the sudden surge of hostile monsters around the Baron countryside, of the Underground Waterway, even in the desert outside Kaipo.

Curious as ever, Rydia raised up on her tiptoes, as if that would help her peer farther down into the pit. She looked back to Cecil, and as if she could sense his hesitance even through the protection of his dark armor, gave him a bright grin and said, "C'mon!"

Not wanting to be short of courage before a shy bard and little girl, Cecil followed, his heavy armored boots awkward on the narrow steps. As he approached the bottom, he could now make out giant pincers protruding up from the sand, at least five feet apart. He could not, however, see the body of the Antlion in the sand, either it was so thoroughly buried, or its body sand-colored and well-camouflagued.

Carefully, Gilbert moved across the flat bottom of the pit, toward the pincers. From here, Cecil could make out the white gleam of a single egg half buried in the sand, directly between the ominous pincers. Now on the unsteady, soft sand, Cecil knelt, and drove the torch into the ground, upright on its own.

As he stood, Rydia started forward, toward Gilbert and the pincers. "Wait!" Cecil called, more stern than he meant. Rydia and Gilbert both looked back to him, Rydia startled and Gilbert concerned.

"There's nothing to fear." To demonstrate so, Gilbert edged closer to the pincers, leaning in to take the egg, "Here is one of her pearls. . ." He held the prized pearl aloft, the torchlight catching its smooth, polished surface with a wink.

The sand suddenly shifted, shuddering under the movement of the pincers. His balance lost under uneven footing, Gilbert stumbled. Cecil watched in horror as the pincers snapped together, throwing Gilbert aside with the abrupt movement.

Rydia shrieked beside him, and that scared sound grounded Cecil back to the immediate need to protect her. "To me!" Cecil shouted, stepping in front of the summoner girl. The Antlion emerged, sand spilling everywhere as it rose from the pit. It was bigger than Cecil realized, the size of a Fat Chocobo at least, its hard carapace brown and yellow, to more easily hide its bulk in the sandy pit. Its huge head swung, pincers snapping together in a warning.

Gilbert scrambled to his feet, and Cecil saw that he had not been caught in the Antlion's dangerous tusks, but his shirt sleeve torn as evidence of the close call.

He was about to ask the only important question – _the Sand Pearl, was it intact?_ When the Antlion reared back, its pincers open, and charged toward them. Cecil lifted his black sword to meet it.

The Antlion's body lay in ruin before them, torn open in several places by Cecil's blade, its foul blood leaking out into the sand. Rydia sat on the first step up in the man-made stair case, panting with the exertion of her spent magic. Gilbert stood over the Antlion, wide-eyed in worry.

"This makes no sense," the prince said, shaking his head. "Why would the Antlion try to harm us?"

Cecil considered the Antlion's body. He thought again of the octopus creature in the Waterways, and of the attack in the skies on the return from Mysidia. Where these connected? Did they encounter more monsters en route from Kaipo? Had he been too distracted to notice?

"The number of monsters seems to be growing, and once peaceful creatures now turn hostile. Something is not right in our world."

Rydia's voice piped in behind them, "Cecil, we have to get back to Rosa!"

The mere mention of her name, _Rosa, _brought his focus back. How did he lose sight so quickly? His battle haze grew more clouded each fight; each swing of his sword he felt farther from himself.

"Gilbert, the Sand Pearl...?" Cecil looked to the prince, unsure now. Did he see Gilbert drop the Pearl during the battle? Was it sent flying when Gilbert was attacked? Or did he see Gilbert cling tight to it, protecting it from the Antlion's dangerous pincer grip?

"I-It's..." Gilbert hesitated, and then was on his hands and knees, digging through the sand frantically. "I. . I dropped it. It's here somewhere..."

Forgetting his sword in a careless drop, Cecil fell to his knees and began shoveling through the sand with his awkward armored hands. He felt the Pearl before he saw it, a slight _ting _as his gauntlet bumped it.

Eagerly, he scooped it up, holding it high, "I found it! I found it. . ." but his voice dropped off, as the dim torchlight caught the Pearl, revealing a distinct crack across its shiny surface.

_Gilbert dropped it._

It was the only thought Cecil could contain in his head over the defeaning roar of the wind that buffeted around them, as they zipped overland in the Hovercraft. In their climb from the Antlion's lair, he refused to let Rydia or Gilbert touch the Sand Pearl, so worried their careless hands would damage it further.

Even as he carried it, he also refused to look upon it. Perhaps he imagined the crack, or exaggerated it in the dim light of the Antlion's nest. They would arrive in Kaipo, and even the Pearl's insignificant blemish wouldn't keep the light from returning to his Rosa. _Oh_, _Rosa._ He nursed himself on equal parts hope and dread, simultanenously optimistic that she would recover quickly, and fearful that he had failed her in this moment of need.

Gilbert busied himself with piloting the Hovercraft, refusing to meet Cecil's somber gaze. Cecil reached for logic to soothe his anxieties, tried reminding himself that this really wasn't Gilbert's fault – or anyone's, really – but the anger was still rooted deep inside of him. _Accidents happen_, certainly, but then a dark part of himself whispered back, _Yes, but he couldn't protect his own woman either. _

Rydia, for her part, also said nothing, but she was distracted by the wonder of their journey. She stood beside Gilbert, braced against the wheel of the Hovercraft, the wind whipping about her green hair and robes. She did not speak, but she did point out sights as they passed quickly by – a herd of chocobos running alongside the river, a great tree split down the middle by lightning, and finally, the jewel of the Oasis, Kaipo, as it finally came into view.

Rosa remained where they had left her, tangled in the sheets of her sick bed, her beautiful golden hair plastered to her face and neck. She seemed smaller and more fragile than even Cecil's imagination had remembered, as if their few days apart had wasted her further away.

The old man, whose name Cecil didn't bother to remember, couldn't keep the worry from his voice as he spoke, "She's getting worse, Sir. If the fever doesn't break soon, I'm afraid for her. . ."

"Don't worry," Cecil said, with more confidence than he felt, "I have the Sand Pearl."

He tried not to look for the crack in the Pearl's glimmering surface, but his traiterous eyes found it easily, a hairline fracture across its smooth curve. His gauntled fingers traced it, slowly, an prayer rising to his lips. But Rosa's moan, soft and low, broke his reviere. She looked in pain, her brow furrowed in a grimace and her mouth twisted. The very sight of her, so sick and helpless made Cecil's heart strangle in his chest. This was not a Rosa he had ever seen, so broken and small. The Rosa he knew, the Rosa he _loved,_ was capable, clever, and smart; forever tying up her skirts to chase after Cecil and Cain, always trying to keep up with them and surprising him when she did.

"Please. . ." It was an abridged prayer instead, a plea to the Crystals (even the one he had betrayed in Mysidia) to let this work, and he held the Sand Pearl over Rosa.

For a long tortorous moment, nothing happened. And then, just as despair began to grip Cecil, the Pearl shuddered in his hands and a faint light emanated from it, glowing softly as it bathed Rosa's fragile form in warm rays. Rosa stilled entirely, face turning toward the source of heat and light, even with closed eyes.

Then, abruptly, the light stopped, and the room seemed doused in darkness.

"Did it work...?" asked the old man, tenatively, "I have read that the Sand Pearl gives off a magnificent light, but this seemed . . . Perhaps. . ."

_Perhaps it did not work,_ Cecil finished, but left it unvoiced. The Sand Pearl was gray and lifeless in his hands, lacking any shine or luster now. Had it truly been broken? Had they failed? Rosa had gone so still, and in the relative darkness of the cabin, he could not tell if she breathed. . .

"... Cecil." Rosa's voice was small, but it broke through the darkness, not just in the room or what spilled from the Sand Pearl, but the darkness within Cecil himself. His heart lifted, filling with the light of _her,_ of her goodness, of her love for him. He was at her side in the next breath, pulling her delicately in his arms. The Sand Pearl was dropped and forgotten, rolling across the floor in his haste to be near her.

"Cecil, you're alive." He could hear the smile in her words, despite how worn and tired she sounded.

"You're reckless, you know that..? Traveling the desert by yourself, nevermind all the monsters in the countryside. Your mother must be worried sick." Despite Cecil's words, there was no real reprimand in his tone, more of a tease, "You gave me a terrible scare."

"I... I heard you died in the Mist Earthquake." Rosa closed her eyes, perhaps against the pain of the memory, "But I just couldn't believe it. I knew I had to find you."

She did not mention Cain, and Cecil did not offer. He didn't want to tell her, just yet, that Cain had likely died in the earthquake, buried in rubble. Cecil pushed the image of Cain, forever separated from the sky, from his mind.

He had Rosa, he had at least rescued her, and that was all that mattered.


End file.
